Here, master: what cheer?
Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, yarely,
or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.
Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!
yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the
master's whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind,
if room enough!
Of course I might have been dreaming......
....we are such stuff as dreams are made on....